


A Conversation Was Had

by Glitter_Lisp



Category: Leverage
Genre: Episode: S04e07 The Grave Danger Job, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6927301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Lisp/pseuds/Glitter_Lisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parker isn't used to caring about people. Eliot isn't used to comforting people. They both get some practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Conversation Was Had

“I c-can’t… stop… _crying.”_

Eliot stumbles under the weight of the blonde who just catapulted herself into his arms as soon as he entered his apartment. “Woah, Parker! What’s-”

She sobs. “I don’t know, I can’t… can't  _s-stop.”_

He wraps his arms around and carefully leads her to the couch, looking around in confusion as though someone else will appear to fix this. Parker whimpers and presses her face against his chest, shoulders heaving as she practically crawls her way into his lap the moment they sit down. “Hey, talk to me,” he says soothingly. “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “No. M-maybe? No. No.”

“Breathe, Parker,” he murmurs, petting her hair. “Need you to breathe.”

“What’s wrong with me?” she gasps, and he rubs her back as she tries to get her breathing under control, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt. “I don’t cry, I nev… I never cry.” Her voice breaks.

Eliot sighs. “You’re just stressed out,” he says, voice as gentle as he can make it. “You had a rough day.”

“I wasn’t the one in a coffin,” she snaps as she glares up at him and then keens softly, hiding her face once more. “Oh my God, he was in a…” She lets go of her death grip on his shirt to pound her fist against his chest once, and he grimaces. “But he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s okay now, so  _why can’t I stop crying?_ ”

“Well, you…” Eliot flounders for a moment. “You care about him. And you were worried. And now it’s all just catching up with you.”

Eliot understands that. He just got home from two hours at the gym, working out the tail end of his adrenaline high, the panic and intense relief that had flooded his system when they got Hardison out.

Parker shakes her head. “I don’t care about things,” she grumbles, and she sounds like a petulant three-year-old but at least she’s not sobbing anymore.

“Hardison ain’t exactly a ‘thing,’ sweetheart,” Eliot drawls. "He's your friend." Parker growls.

“Friends don’t make you cry!” she snaps, scowling again. Her chin digs into his chest as she looks angrily up at him. “They’re supposed to make you  _stop_ crying! They’re supposed to make you happy, and make safe-crackers for you, and make jokes and special earbuds, and they’re not supposed to almost die and…” Her face crumples, and Eliot braces himself for more sobbing. Instead, she just says in a small, lost voice, “Eliot, he almost died.”

He sighs again, pulling her more into his lap and leaning back against the couch. Parker curls up against his chest, still sniffling. “I know, kid.”

“I don’t want him to die,” she whispers. “I- I really… Eliot, he can’t. He doesn’t get to die.”

“Not any time soon,” Eliot agrees. Parker hums softly, and they sit in silence for a few minutes.

“I think you were right,” the thief says finally.

“'Bout what?”

“I think I really like Hardison.”


End file.
